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Poem by Richard Doddridge Blackmore * * * Love, and if there be one,
Come my love to be,
My love is for the one
Moving unto me.
Not for me the show, love,
Of a gilded bliss;
Only thou must know, love,
What my value is.
If in all the earth, love,
Thou hast none but me,
This shall be my worth, love,
To be cheap to thee.
But, if so thou ever
Strivest to be free,
’Twill be my endeavor
To be dear to thee.
Hence may I ensure, love,
All a woman’s due:
Comforting my true love
With a love as true.
Richard Doddridge Blackmore Richard Doddridge Blackmore's other poems: 4010 Views |
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